


Brother's keeper

by SharpestRose



Category: Smallville
Genre: AU, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 03:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharpestRose/pseuds/SharpestRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One door closes, another opens, and the whole geography of the room is changed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brother's keeper

**Author's Note:**

> Hyperman comics are mentioned in Neil Gaiman's Sandman series. Since it has been heavily suggested elsewhere in Sandman that one of the main characters played a significant role in Kal-El's fate, it stands to reason that Hyperman comics could, hypothetically, exist in the same world as Smallville. And since this is an AU in the first place, I don't know why I'm even bothering with internal logic on such a minor point. But there you go.

"Lana, it's okay. I'm okay."

And no, it's not okay. Mom's so concerned and Dad's stern and got that irritated look which means he's equal parts angry and worried. And Clark's just Clark, because he isn't ever anything else, even when he's been hit by a car and thrown off a bridge two hours beforehand. But no, for all the things that it is, it is _not_ okay. She grabs the keys to the truck and runs out of the kitchen, hoping that she can keep from crying until she's in the car and on her way... somewhere. Anywhere.

Lana drives aimlessly until nightfall. She doesn't even know anymore if she's upset or just confused. One of her plaits comes loose and she pulls the elastics off with a fierceness that surprises her, finger-combing the braids free with trembling fingers. She's worn her hair that same way since she was eight but all of a sudden it feels stupid, childish.

"God _dammit_ ," she mutters to herself, some small illicit thrill at using bad language undermining all her thoughts about being older and not a kid anymore. She turns around in a wide arc on the empty stretch of road and drives back towards town. It's not long after nine o'clock, and despite the fact that it'll keep her up all night Lana really wants a cup of coffee and a couple of minutes in the midst of people who don't know how crazypsychonuts her everyday life is. 'Okay', indeed. Clark has rarely said a less true word.

She's surprised when she realises how far she's driven. It almost seems funny, that her reaction to Clark's accident should be to go out and behave recklessly behind the wheel. The bus station is a bright blur in the dark ahead as Lana turns the radio tuner and laments at the lack of any decent music playing on the handful of channels she can receive out here.

The station's already closed, the last arrivals and departures long done with for the day. The lights, which looked so comforting from far away, seem to accentuate the isolation up close. There's only one figure visible outside the building, a dark shape sitting on one of the wooden benches. Even from a distance and by the bad light, Lana can tell that it's not an adult.

She wipes her face one last time and climbs down out of the truck, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans against the cold as she walks across to where the child sits. It's a boy, with rusty-coloured brown-red hair that makes a muted halo around his face in the poor lighting. Lana guesses his age to be about ten, and a memory of herself at that age sitting on this very bench makes something in her heart tug.

"Are you waiting for someone?" she asks, crouching beside him. He's wearing what she supposes must be a uniform from an expensive school, all dark and well-cut.

"No," the boy answers. There's no shyness in his tone and Lana suspects that this, more than the outfit, is the thing which tells her that this boy was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. To the manor born, as the saying goes.

All of this makes it even stranger that she should find him outside a closed bus shelter late at night.

"Do you want me to drive you somewhere?" Lana asks him now, getting a nod in reply. "Anywhere in particular?"

"Somewhere a bit warmer?" the boy asks, and Lana feels guilty for judging him. He's just a kid, and he's cold, and she's been thinking that he's probably a brat.

"What's your name?" she asks when they're back in the cabin of the truck. Her watch says it's nearly quarter to ten now, and Mom and Dad and Clark are probably worried out of their minds. She wonders if the boy has a cellphone.

"Julian," the boy answers her. "What's yours?"

"Lana. Lana Kent. You got a last name, Julian?"

"Luthor," answers Julian, making it sound like a challenge. Or a threat, from another perspective. Lana nods.

"Thought as much. Aren't too many families in these parts with -" she catches herself, knowing that however she phrases the rest of the sentence it will sound rude and crass. "Aren't any other new families in Smallville at the moment." It's a lame thing to say, and Lana grins to hide her discomfort. Julian hasn't responded to her conversational fumbles at all, seemingly engrossed by the dark stretches of farmland out the window.

"My brother just moved here," he agrees now.

"Does anyone know you're here?" asks Lana.

"It's okay," Julian answers. "I do this sometimes."

"So you want me to take you to your brother's?" Lana queries. Julian nods, and Lana makes another change of course. Everyone keeps using that word, _okay_. Lana doesn't even know what it stands for, what it meant in the first place. It doesn't seem to mean anything now.

-

Clark's tinkering with his telescope when Dad comes up. Clark doesn't need to ask if Lana's back yet, because Dad's annoyed-worried-loving expression has answered that question already.

"She's just blowing off steam. It's been a big day," Clark offers, aware of how trite it sounds before the words are fully out of his mouth.

"Sure has," Dad agrees. "Clark, your mother and I have been talking, and considering what happened today we've decided that it's time to tell you some things."

Clark's eyebrows furrow. "What things?"

"Things about you." Dad holds out a piece of grey flannel, wrapped around something that seems to be shaped like a thin hardcover book. Clark takes the object and unwraps the fabric quickly, pausing in confusion when a metal plate covered in etched symbols is revealed.

"We looked into the writing as thoroughly as we could, but it was risky to ask too many questions so we never did find out much. It doesn't seem to be any language known to man," Dad says, and Clark looks up sharply, his inspection of the plate forgotten.

"Dad..." says Clark. "What're you saying?"

"Come down to the storm cellar, and I'll show you."

Clark feels more afraid now than he did at the bridge, for some weird reason.

-

Lana still hasn't called home when they get to the mansion and Julian takes over. She damps down the urge to think 'to the manor born' again, because it's not kind and sounds really backwoods and nasty even in her head. But it's a little bit true, even so, because Julian's at least four or five years younger than Lana and she could never imagine herself ordering people around, or being so comfortable in her own skin as Julian seems to be in his.

They're shown into a study - Lana thinks it's probably really called an office, but study sounds homier and this is supposed to be someone's home, right? There are so many books, beautiful old books with enticingly half-worn titles on the spines. Entranced, Lana steps closer for a better look.

"Hey there," a voice says, and Lana turns abruptly from the bookshelves. The speaker is not addressing her, however, but Julian. The boy smiles, and the expression is so honestly happy and uncalculated that he looks almost like a different person.

Lex Luthor is, Lana thinks, exactly what Julian will be in another decade or so. Sleek, confident... _poised_ , which isn't a word Lana's ever thought about anyone before. It's still not exactly right, but maybe that's the point; farm girls from Kansas don't have the vocabulary to talk about families like the Luthors, because it's a different world entirely. Galaxies separate their lives.

"Hey," Lex says again in that same soft tone. Keeping his balance as Julian hugs him, he touches one elegant hand to the boy's soft earth-toned hair. "On the lam again, Jules?" Julian nods. "Want to talk about it?" Julian shakes his head. Lex nods. "All right."

Lana feels bad for intruding, but the sooner she makes herself known the sooner she can leave, so it's all even in the end. She clears her throat and Lex looks up.

"Thank you. I'm sorry, I don't think I know your name."

"She's Lana Kent," Julian supplies before Lana can speak.

"Kent?" Lex looks suddenly interested.

"Clark's my brother."

"Ah. I take it you know, then, that I met him and your father this afternoon."

Lana shrugs, swallowing back an echo of her earlier instability. "'Met' is perhaps not the word I'd use, unless most formal introductions in Metropolis involve near-fatal accidents." She's surprised to hear that the words come out quippy, no hint of her inner turmoil.

Lex smirks a little, nodding agreement. Lana wonders if he throws everyone off balance or if it's just her. She's never believed that 'power as aphrodisiac' thing before. "It's not every day I'm so indebted to a family so quickly. Good to meet you, Lana." Lex holds his hand out and she shakes it with a friendly smile. His grip is forceful without being overly strong, and it's just another thing among a million things that make Lana feel like she's on some alien planet.

Julian starts coughing and at first Lana thinks it's a subtle call for attention, but then he keeps on coughing and Lex turns away from her without another glance and hurries to his brother's side. Julian's bag, a burgundy duffle with a leather insignia stitched into the side, is on the floor beside the boy. He reaches into it now, pulling out one of those complicated-looking asthma inhalers with the large click-together chamber to circulate the drugs.

Now Lana really does feel like an interloper, hovering near the door as Julian gulps for air through the inhaler and Lex stands beside him and rubs his back comfortingly.

"The war between the Luthor sons and oxygen is a longstanding one," Lex explains when he remembers that she's there. "Do you need a ride home, Miss Kent?"

She feels that it would be out of place to correct him to 'Ms' - maybe it's not the fashion anymore, or maybe he just assumes that girls like her prefer 'Miss'. It's not like they're playing power games, but still Lana feels some urge to speak up.

"No, no, the truck's just out front," she says. "Perhaps I'll see you two around again some time."

"Undoubtedly," Lex agrees, smiling politely at her. Lana smiles back, including Julian in the scope of her expression, and turns to go.

It's not until she's back on the road that she realises she still hasn't phoned home. She's gonna be grounded for sure now, it's even later than that time she and Chloe went to a late night double feature without asking first. Still, maybe she'll get off the hook on account of her exit earlier - Mom and Dad always cut a lot of slack when it's a Clark-related incident.

Lana remembers countless moments of resentment over the years on account of that, all the times she felt sure that she was the less-loved of the two, but that bitterness has long passed into history. It's not so different from if she had a disabled sibling, for all Clark's amazing abilities. There are just some things to do with him that are always going to take up more space in their parents' heads than the things to do with Lana; in return she gets to have the ordinary life. For a long time neither Kent child felt that they'd gotten the better deal, but now they don't really think about it. It's just how things are.

She can still remember the day everything went topsy-turvy like it was just last week. Jonathan and Martha came into Nell's shop and Lana, so proud of her beautiful new fairy costume and toy wand, offered to grant wishes. She remembers touching the wand to Martha's head and making a wish herself, a tiny voice in her head imagining how cool it would be if the Kents were her mommy and daddy. They always seemed so nice and friendly, but there was something sad about them too.

Then, the memory splinters, becomes frozen moments and images strung together by the sounds of panic and danger all around. Nell putting her down when the first black streak of cloud cut the blue of the sky in half, running over to Lana's parents to see if they knew anything about what was going on. The feeling, the rush as the air changed and grew impossibly hot all around. Lana's mother, father, and aunt, there one moment and then _not_ , and Lana couldn't find her wand, and she knew she could make it better if she just found her wand...

She'd had guilt about that, for a long time. The wish she'd made. Even now, Lana can't help but know somewhere in the back of her head that it was her fault that her parents died. She'd killed them in that moment when she'd wished for the Kents to be her family.

It was years after the day of the meteors when Lana got to the point where she could admit that guilt to Martha. It was years later still that Lana had finally started calling Martha 'Mom', but it did happen in the end.

Jonathan was Dad, and Clark was Clark... because Clark was always Clark. It had made sense, to use Mom and Dad. That was what Clark's always called them, and Clark was her brother, and Lana was tired of being that crying little girl with no family left.

She has family all around her, the best family in the world. The pang she still feels for the Langs is a complicated tangle of a lot of different emotions, but she's long stopped grieving for them. _The scales balance in the end_ , a particularly dippy teacher had told her once. _Sometimes bad things have to happen so that good things can happen down the track. If you take something off one side and put it on the other, the scale has to balance itself again. It all works out, somehow._

Lana has pondered that particular throwaway comment far more than it merits. She tends to do that, think things over too much. It came from growing up as Clark's sister, she'd had no choice but to be cautious and thoughtful then and it's habit now.

The house is dark but there's a light on up in Clark's area of the barn. It used to be the both of theirs, but in the last few years Lana's let Clark take it over. There's no point to getting away from it all if people know where to find you.

"Hey, Clark," she says quietly by way of greeting, climbing the dusty wooden stairs two at a time. "How are you feeling? And don't you dare say 'okay', either."

Clark shakes his head. He's sitting on one of the battered armchairs he's claimed for his little fortress, and looking down at his hands. "Don't worry, Lana, I wouldn't."

"Clark?" Lana hesitates, not sure if he wants her any closer.

"Did you know? About... about me?"

Oh.

"Remember when I was ten, and I kept running away all the time?" Lana asks after a moment. Clark doesn't give any indication that he's even heard, but she goes on speaking anyway. "Well, one time I started walking towards the bus station and it started to rain. So I went and hid in the storm cellar. Dad found me a couple of hours later and told me some of it - that now it was my job, as well as his and Mom's, to protect you. That people might be afraid of you because you're different. I asked if you knew and he said," Lana takes a breath, hoping that what she's saying is what Clark wants to hear. "He said 'he'll know when he's ready'. Guess you're ready now."

Clark doesn't answer, but after a couple of seconds he stands and gives Lana a hug. "Thanks, Lana. For protecting me."

"Hey, what're sisters for?" she answers.

-

Chloe comes home with them the next day after school. Pete wanted to tag along too, but Clark knows better than to indulge Pete's wish to leer at Lana and Chloe when Mom and Dad are around. They've done enough protective parenting in the last twenty-four hours to warrant a bit of a rest from it.

The truck parked out the front of the house is so shiny that Lana has to squint to even see it properly.

"Wow, Mom, whose is that?" she asks while Clark and Chloe continue to stare.

"Yours and Clark's. A gift from Lex Luthor." Mom hands her a card that's so stylish Lana fears it'll cut her through sheer force of elegance alone.

"Dear Clark: Drive safely. Share this with Lana; siblings should look out for one another. Always in your debt, the maniac in the Porsche," Lana reads out.

"I didn't tell him I had a sister," Clark says, a momentary flicker of annoyance at having to share his bright new toy ghosting across his face. Lana rolls her eyes.

"Your father has the keys," says Mom, a note of warning in her voice. Lana's shoulders slump.

Dad's working with the wood chipper, and when he sees the three teens approaching he shakes his head. "I know you want it. But you can't keep it."

"Why not?" Clark's looking angry. "I saved his life."

"You want a prize?" Dad snaps in reply. Lana, sensing the rising tension, decides to let the argument run its course without spectators.

Gesturing for Chloe to follow her, the two of them go back towards the kitchen for a snack. The sounds of Clark and Dad fighting follow them inside.

"Yikes. Sounds bad," Chloe comments as a shout from Jonathan jars the air.

"We've all been under pressure these past few days. They need to let off steam, this is just a good excuse."

"Hey, look at you, makin' a whole metaphor without mixing in other bits," Chloe teases. Lana pokes her tongue out in response.

"We can't all be sophisticated career women, you know. Someone's got to plant the food for all the dinner parties you're going to host someday." The comment comes out sharper than Lana meant it to, and Chloe looks unexpectedly wounded.

"Lana? What the hell?"

Lana shakes her head, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her forehead. "God, I don't know. I was out at the Luthor mansion last night and... it's a different world, Chloe. And I know that even the best reporters in the world don't live like that, but they don't have to get up at the crack of dawn to make sure the cows are milked, either. I guess I just... feel my place really strongly at the moment. You and Clark and everyone else at school are all going places, and I'm just some farmgirl from Smallville who still braids her hair."

Chloe gives Lana a long look, reaching out to brush her fingertips down the long fall of dark hair framing Lana's face. "Don't see any braids today."

"Yeah, for the first time in six and a half years," Lana retorts. "Don't worry, I'm just being melodramatic. Seriously."

Chloe doesn't look convinced. "You know I never think of you that way, right? As just some farmgirl?"

"I know," Lana says softly, but she doesn't meet Chloe's eyes. Then, blinking, she smiles broadly. "So, have you picked out a dress for Homecoming dance yet?"

Chloe makes a face. "Yeah, but I haven't bought it yet." Now it's her turn to avoid eye contact. "It's, um, it's kinda pink. I figured you wouldn't wanna co-ordinate with something like that."

Lana considers this for a few seconds. She hasn't worn pink by choice since the day her parents and her aunt died. They always thought of her as their pretty little girl, fey and sparkly and not much else, and it was a role she was glad to shed entirely. Sometimes Lana can't help but wonder who she'd be now if the meteors hadn't taken away her family; if she'd have ended up losing the battle against what they wanted her to be.

She imagines her rough brown hands as manicured and soft, her strong shoulders slim and graceful. It's so ridiculous and fanciful that Lana has to bite back a laugh.

"So I'll contrast," she says to Chloe. "Something blue."

"Cool." Chloe grins. "I peeked at the voting results today. The _Torch_ had to assemble everything but the photo-spread so that it can go to print a.s.a.p after the dance is over."

"Let me guess," Lana says, pouring a glass of juice for Chloe and a mug of milk for herself. "Whitney and Felice are King and Queen."

"Gonna have to put you on my wall of weird if you keep being clairvoyant," Chloe answers cheerily. "Got it in one."

-

Clark doesn't want Lana along when he goes to return the truck, of course. She can't tell if he's moody just because of having to give back such a lovely vehicle, or because having a boring old human sister tagging behind cramps his speedy style, or if Chloe's said something to him and now he doesn't want her going back to the mansion for another dose of complex inferiority.

No matter what the reason, she's having none of it. She'd rather be anywhere but in her bedroom with its buttermilk-coloured walls and cheerful curtains and a few ribbons from riding competitions tacked to a pinboard. Anywhere but where she's at home.

Clark, with his typical boy show-offishness, bends the bars of the gate so that they can clamber through. Lana can't even tell where the metal was stretched once they're back in place, and for the first time she's glad that Clark's a good guy and wouldn't think of using his gifts for bad things. Once the thought's there, she can't believe it's never bothered her before. She hugs Clark impulsively and he flinches, still in too bad of a mood to pay attention to her affection.

Lex and Julian are swordfighting - fencing, Lana corrects herself. It's called fencing when it's rich people pretending to fight to the death for fun. Or, at least, they obviously had been until a few seconds before the Kent siblings arrived.

Julian's sitting in a large leather armchair, panting to catch his breath and looking slightly pale and clammy. Lex is waving his now-unopposed foil around, like he wants to attack the world.

"You've got to tell me when it's too much, Jules," he says fiercely.

"I do," answers Julian quietly. "You know I do."

"No, you tell me when it's past too much and become more than you can bear. What's the point in running to me if you treat me the same way as everyone back home?"

"I'm sorry, Lex. You're right, I let it go too long." It's not so much an apology as a confession. "But I'm okay now. See? Breathing fine."

"Um," Clark says nervously from the door. "Hi again, Lex."

"Clark!" Lex's stormy expression shifts abruptly to pleased surprise. "And Lana. This is an unexpected pleasure." His charisma alone seems enough to knock someone breathless, Lana decides, and that's when it's not even really directed at her. Lex's eyes are on Clark.

"Hey," Lana says, wishing suddenly that she had plaited her hair in the old way before coming over. Being treated like a child might chafe against her, but at least it was uncomplicated. "Hi again, Julian."

Julian nods in greeting. Lana smiles, an idea suddenly occurring to her. "Can you show me around while our brothers have a chat? This house is amazing."

"Yeah, if you're dead and in the market for somewhere to haunt," Lex says with a smirk that makes Lana think of words like _excitement_ and _exotica_ and _intrigue_.

"It's, uh, roomy," Clark offers. Lana rolls her eyes.

"Come on Julian, show me your room."

Julian's room makes Lana think of a luxurious hotel suite, the kind she's only read about in books. She remembers what Clark's room looked like when he was ten, the never-made bed and sticky rings on the edge of the desk where he'd put down glasses of sodapop without a coaster.

"I like the same stuff as anyone else." Julian sounds almost defensive, and Lana's getting used to feeling the mix of guilt and confusion in her gut when the boy calls her on her unspoken assumptions. "I haven't had a chance to ask for a new playstation and games, that's all."

"What about comic books?" she asks. As far as she can remember, comic books feature largely in ten-year-old lifestyles, rich and famous or otherwise. "You have any of them?"

"Just Lex's old ones," Julian says with a shrug. " _Warrior Angel_ mostly. A couple of _Hyperman_ ones."

Lana makes a face. "I never liked those. Clark had a bunch of them. The Weirdzos freaked me out."

"Really?" Julian looks surprised. "Those are my favourite ones. Sometimes I pretend that I find a way to get into another world, where everything's different to how it is here."

"Ug, no." With a shake of her head, Lana crosses over to stand in front of the wide window. "What if everything was worse?"

"Doesn't matter. Here and now's all we have," says Julian. The tone worries Lana, it's too pragmatic and fatalistic for any little kid to speak with. She draws in a deep breath and turns, putting on her brightest smile.

"Hey, why don't we go look at the garden?"

Julian hesitates, and Lana guesses the reason. "We'll keep away from flowers and stuff, and the second you feel like you should come inside we'll vamoose, okay?"

Julian smiles warily. "Okay."

-

"...it was the most exhilarating two minutes of my life." Lex is speaking dreamily, almost like he's not aware anymore that Clark's in the room. It's unnerving. "I flew over Smallville, and for the first time, I didn't see a dead end. I saw a new beginning." Now Lex looks at Clark, and if it made Clark nervous when Lex wasn't paying attention to him then having Lex's full concentration trained on him is a thousand times more unsettling. "Thanks to you I have a second chance."

Clark looks down. The intensity of the feeling in Lex's words makes him feel like there should be something he can say in response, but if there is he has no idea it might be.

"We have a future, Clark..." Lex goes on. That makes Clark look up, because he's spent the last couple of days trying to get through life minute by minute, and the thought of something constant makes his breath catch. _Stability would be a nice change_ , he thinks, and then imagines how ridiculous that would sound coming from someone like him to someone like Lex. "And I don't want anything to stand in the way of our friendship," finishes Lex, unaware that Clark's brain is going a million miles a minute in a thousand random directions.

It's kinda like Lex disrupts the steady threads Clark's always ordered his life into. Unravels him. Makes tangles and knots, low in Clark's belly.

"Hey, look. Lana and Julian," Clark says finally, weakly, knowing that he sounds like a halfwit but unable to think of anything else he can say instead.

Lex glances out the window, down at where his brother and Clark's sister are walking across the green.

"It's funny, isn't it? In your own head, you're invincible, but then you look at someone you care about and they seem so fragile. It's frightening," says Lex, as if it's something he re-learns every day and can never quite believe. "You want to protect them from anything bad ever happening. I guess that's what love is."

"Really?" Clark asks, surprised. "I feel that way about pretty much everyone. Protecting, I mean."

Lex seems too engrossed in watching Julian to have really heard, but it's not until after a suitable pause has passed that Lex speaks again.

"When Julian was a baby, whole weeks would go by where I wouldn't let anyone touch him but me. I was sure something terrible would happen. He was so fragile. I forced my tutors to temporarily abandon trigonometry and Latin in favour of childcare instruction." Lex looks at Clark, as if expecting a response to the admission. Clark wonders if anyone could ever get used to that stare.

Still, he's glad to be back to a subject he knows about. "I used to feel like that with Lana. I still do, but she'd be furious if I told her."

Lex chuckles, then slips back into gravity as his gaze returns to the window. "Some days I think that Julian's the only thing that's kept me sane. My father tried to drive a wedge between us, of course, but Jules would have none of it. Even after... even at times when nobody else had a good word to say about me, he'd -" Lex shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to start on the tragic story of the Luthor family's past."

Clark ignores the last comment, giving Lex one of those wide-eyed glowing-with-health-and-fresh-air stares of concern that Clark has the patent on. "It's okay, Lex. That's what friends do."

"Rant incoherently? I knew there was a reason I'd never bothered cultivating any before," Lex retorts. "So now tell me all about you, Clark."

Clark shrugs. "Not much to tell. What you see is pretty much all you get with me."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second. Everyone's got something below the surface, in my experience. Who's older, you or Lana?"

"We're the same age. Well, she's older, but only by a bit."

"Twins?" Lex takes another sip from his water bottle and Clark finds himself watching the movements of Lex's throat as he swallows.

"What? Oh, no. We're adopted. Different birth parents."

"See? Already, there's more to you than I would have known by looking." Lex smiles. "Do you argue much?"

"We used to. We've grown out of it now," Clark says, looking down at where Lana is laughing at something Julian must have said. She spots him standing at the window, waving in hello. It's the first real smile he's seem on her face in days. "She's a great sister. Things have been rough for her, but she's strong."

He can see that Lex wants to ask what problems a friendly, pretty small town girl like Lana could possibly have had, but it's not Clark's story to tell and it wouldn't be fair to share Lana's life when she's so good at keeping his secrets for him.

-

Lana walks Julian back to his room and goes in search of her own brother. There seem to be a million rooms and no obvious way to tell one corridor from another, and it's not long before she's hopelessly lost.

By pure chance, she pushes a door open and finds herself in one of the few rooms she recognises. It's Lex's study, the antique books just as alluring by daylight as they were the other night.

"Anything I can help you with, Miss Kent?" a voice asks and she jumps. It's Lex, of course, looking amused at the intrusion.

"It's Ms," she replies. "Is Clark here?"

"He said he'd see you at home."

Lex is sitting at his desk, examining a sheaf of papers and making notes on them with a sleek fountain pen. Lana's oddly surprised by that, she would have expected all his business to be in electronic form. It's comforting somehow, to know that even someone like Lex Luthor is still part of the world she inhabits.

"I'm sorry I interrupted you. Could someone show me out?"

"Of course. But you don't have to rush off, Lana. Your company is a refreshing change from the people I meet most of the time."

She can't decide if he's complimenting or condescending with the comment. Then curiosity gets the better of her - something so typical of Chloe and unlike Lana's own usual reactions to the world that she can't help but feel a smile coming on - and, hesitantly, she asks the question that's been playing on her mind since Dad brought Clark home soaking wet and smelling of the river.

"What was it like? After your car went off the bridge?"

"What was it like?" Lex repeats before pausing, musing to himself. "But my tongue is broken in silence, and that instant a light fire rushes beneath my skin." When he's quoting poetry his voice becomes different, somehow distant. "I can no longer see anything in my eyes and my ears are thundering and cold pours down me, and shuddering grasps me all over, and I am greener than grass, and I seem to myself to be little short of death."

Lana smiles. "From Sappho." Seeing Lex's surprise, she laughs. "What, you thought that nobody in Smallville could read?"

"Obviously I was mistaken."

Her smile shifts, becoming a smirk of her own. "Kids like you got Warrior Angel, kids like me had Sappho. We take our role models where we can."

Now Lex's smirk is coupled with raised eyebrows. "I'm intrigued. Could it be that Lana Kent is expressing a fondness for double-x chromosomes?"

Lana shrugs off the coy games, deciding not to answer. Lex can think whatever he likes; she's not adept at that kind of flirty conversation, and knows that Lex will win the upper hand sooner or later. "That poem's about falling in love, anyway. Not car accidents."

Lex doesn't reply to that, giving her another few seconds of his smirk before turning back to the work in front of him. He presses a button on his phone. "Amy, could you see Ms Kent to the door?"

-

She remembers the first time she met Chloe Sullivan, back in eighth grade. Lana had been assigned to show her around and they'd ended up in the barn. It was back before Lana had relinquished it to Clark, and there were glossy magazines about popstars and tv actors strewn all over the place.

They'd been standing there, Chloe's constant questions about farm life momentarily on hold, and then Lana had been surprised to find a pair of soft lips against hers.

"I've been thinking about doing that all afternoon," Chloe had explained brightly. "And I wanted to get it over with, so we can be friends."

Lana remembers that she laughed, feeling a little giddy. "Kids from Metropolis are _cool_ ," she'd said finally, earning another wide smile from Chloe.

She remembers, too, the afternoon a year later when Mom had come up to her room wearing a serious face and said "Lana, can we have a talk?"

Lana had been braiding her hair, the plait held between her lips as she hunted for an elastic. Now, seeing the stern expression on her mother, Lana let the plait fall and begin to loosen without a tie.

"Sure, Mom, what's up?"

"You know how your father and I are always telling Clark that he shouldn't worry about stuff that he can do that's... different? That the only 'normal' that matters is what feels normal for him?" Martha had what Lana had come to think of as the 'cotton wool' look - like she wanted to wrap Lana and Clark up in padding and put them somewhere safe forever, so that nothing could hurt them.

"'Course," Lana answered, sitting down on the bed with a bounce. "Mom, what's wrong? You're freaking me out. You know I'm always careful with Clark, and I'd never say anything to anyone."

Mom shook her head. "This isn't about Clark, hon. You're always great with him, and your dad and I know that. I just wanted to make sure that... that you knew those words are meant for you, as well."

"Ah." Comprehension dawned, and Lana hoped she wasn't blushing. "Yeah, I know," she said. Then, in a mutter, added "I guess you guys got stuck with two freak kids."

Mom looked very stern.

"I would take my two 'freak kids' over any other children in Smallville, Lana. I mean that."

Lana still hadn't been sure if she believed that or not, but later that same day she'd heard her parents talking and Dad had said "I guess we're not to shabby at raising them after all, eh?", so perhaps things were all right.

-

"Hey, Lana?" Clark's voice jolts her out of her remembering. She's sitting on the front step, watching night fall over the world. The clouds are shot through with pinks and turquoise blues, and Lana thinks the two shades look lovely together.

She looks up, and Clark's there watching her. She feels guilty more than anything else, because her family has had enough stuff going on this week without worrying about her.

"What's up?" she asks, uncomfortable.

"You've been on your own a lot lately," Clark says, as if that's a reason unto itself for him to be concerned.

"Just thinking," Lana explains. "It's easier to do that when nobody's around. Like I can hear my thoughts better."

"Sometimes saying things out loud helps you hear them, too." Clark's obviously been paying attention to all those Deep and Meaningfuls that he's been getting, because that's just the kind of thing Mom's always saying; a not-quite-scolding that still tells her kids exactly what she thinks they should be doing. "What's wrong, Lana?"

Lana ponders for a moment, thinking about the world and her place in it and all the things that are still so confusing and weird. And then she realises that she doesn't mind not knowing yet where her life's gonna end up. That the journey's the important part.

"Nothing," she answers, pushing her hair off her face. "Nothing's up. I've just been working out stuff. I'm good, Clark. Really good."

"Really?" Clark smiles. Then, anxiety slips back over his features and he shifts his stance. "Lana..."

"At the risk of sounding unoriginal, what's up?" asks Lana, gesturing for him to sit down beside her. He stays standing.

"You know when you realised that you liked Chloe?"

Lana blinks, surprised to be faced with this question so soon after mulling over her memories. "Yeah?"

"Did it feel... confusing? Like you didn't understand anything anymore?"

Lana's eyebrows knit as she ponders her answer for a long minute before saying "No. The feeling wasn't confusing. Actually, it felt like the first thing that had ever made perfect sense, a clear sound in the middle of a bunch of white noise."

"Really?"

Lana can't tell if Clark's relieved or dismayed. It's always so hard to read his expressions, for all that he seems to be open and honest as a new day. Either way, he sighs and sits down beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him and cracking his knuckles.

"Someone you like, Clark?" Lana asks, a note of gentle teasing creeping into the question. He elbows her in the ribs by way of an answer. "Hey, Clark?"

"Hmm?"

"Thanks." Lana smiles when Clark looks at her quizzically. "For being you. For being my brother."

"Hey, don't give me the credit. I didn't ask to be burdened with you," answers Clark. Lana makes a sound of choked outrage, and he grins and goes on. "I didn't ask for a sister with bad taste in music who always finishes the milk."

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask for a brother who never once let me win at races, who used to switch the heads on all my dolls when I looked away from them for a second."

Clark laughs, obviously having forgotten that particular prank. Lana punches him on the upper arm in revenge for all the Barbies with G I Joe faces, then winces as her knuckles meet absolute resistance against Clark's skin.

"It's not fair, I can't even hit you properly. I cry foul."

Clark laughs even more, a glint in his eye warning Lana that she's going to end up with an ice cube down her neck or toothpaste in her hairbrush at some point in the not-too-distant future.

"Lana?"

"Yes?" She's wary now, keeping an eye on him for any sudden movements.

"Thanks." The word's weighted with true gratitude and a lifetime of memories.

Lana grins. "It's okay," she says.


End file.
